Like Minds
by loose
Summary: All about Faith. Plus Buffy. And some Dana. Fuffy. Very characters driven, but the plot is there, hiding behind the characters. Just give it a chance. You may enjoy it.
1. The Slayer in B

**Summary: **It's all about Faith. About Buffy. And Some Dana. Fuffy. Very characters driven. But the plot is there. Hiding behind the characters. Bah. Just give it a chance. You may enjoy it. driven, the plot is. Anyway. If you stay to read, please review. I'll appreciate it. More. I'll love it.

**Disclaimers: **all in the Buffyverse belong to Joss Whedon.

**Thanks to: **You. Yes you. For the title. For the enduring. For the ice cream.

**Dedication:** You. I mean you. Promised you a dedication, didn't I. Sorry for the delay. Miss you so.

**Pairing: **Faith/Buffy

_**Like Minds**_

_**England**_

Faith knew, trust was a lie. It really was like forgiveness, it could never be full. It hurt more then she cared to suffer, she'd never let the pain reach her eyes. Never.

There were countless tears rotting behind her eyes, she knew, she could feel the sick infection rusting up the flesh and the nerves and spreading to clog up her face still.

It hurt like hell but it was a necessary reminder of what she was.

It felt sick and too cruel to survive but she was sure she could never be able to live without this kind of ash.

Because it was a broken deal of her to feel happiness, or even, to feel a little good, when she perfectly knew that she shouldn't. Shouldn't ever.

Not like she ever cared much about breaking deals but now it was different. She was different or at last acted so and that was good enough. For now.

It wasn't like it was up to her anyway, she couldn't walk away from what she had now. Not even when it felt like it was too much for her to have. And it really was too much because she had people now and they needed her. And she was loved.

She had her girls.

She always took in the green ones, the less experienced, the youngest. Girls untrained and oblivious, were immediately send to her class because, "–_ it's the finest training asset we posses,"_ – Giles had once said. And it was true. She would never let her girls out, unless she was damn sure that they could fight about anything, from the average vampire of the night to the very special treat , once they could face her there was just about nothing they wouldn't be able to drop.

But it always happened, usually a couple of weeks after their arrival, the spreading of rumours, that really weren't rumours because it was the truth. Tales from the past ran fast, from lips to lips, and her past was just too much of an gloomy classic to lay silent. And there was so much more now. So much more then just gossiping and freezing away from her.

At first they wouldn't believe a word, she was too good, she was too there and she cared too much about them.

A couple of times fists were raised to defend her supposedly insulted honour, or to shut the mouth of whoever dared to spat dirty lies on her –"_She saved your ass, you ungrateful . . ."_ – but they would cave in and ask her at the end, everytime.

Like Claudia did. Young Slayer from Rome who had lived through the honour of being rounded up by the Slayer among Slayers, Buffy Summers herself.

Claudia had burst into her office, that really was her home, on a rainy day, knuckles bruised, flushed checks and wide glassy eyes, getting Faith so worried, she had knocked the chair, she was draped over straight into the wall when she had sprung on her feet.

"… _the fuck happened, Cloud? "_ – the girl couldn't catch her breath, she wanted to cry but wouldn't in front of her, and that's when she told her in a rush how Jordan was spitting up poison and lies, so many lies, like how could she ever and after everything Faith did?

After Faith had to save her ass from that freaking old vampire, that was about to smash her knees with a mallet, because she had been so stupid to let him trap her under that tomb lid, and she wasn't as good as she thought she was anyway. And it really didn't matter that she lead her own patrol team all alone, because when it came down to it, Claudia had still rammed her face into the wall as many times as it took to get her to shut her mouth up.

The girl couldn't stop ranting, on and on, about how she would fought every one, no matter how powerful or ugly, that would ever dare to defame the Dark Slayer, because when she had first set foot in England she had been so scared, felt so alone, dealing with a gift she didn't know how to deal with, but now no more of that!

And it was because of her, because of Faith. Because she had taught her.

She would never be scared ever again — except that she was. As in now and right there.

Claudia was scared. Terrified even.

Faith saw when it happened, she always saw it happening, it was like taking a punch widely into the stomach and she wouldn't deny herself the pain.

She saw when Claudia froze, cause Faith hadn't stopped her rant halfway like she always did when the girl went on and on, because she had this over dramatic temper going on, tragic babbling disease was another name for it, and now Faith's silence had chopped her wordless.

She had to ask then and it was just a doomed dare for Faith's eyes were answering already.

Claudia shook her head and trembled like lamb because Faith wouldn't lie. When asked she would give the tale, and she never played greedy on the more terrible details, it was a torture she thought she deserved, like seeing the horror that made Claudia's eyes look like a grave after she told her that Jordan wasn't a liar.

But there was not universal attitude around the topic, it was never predictable how a girl was going to react once faced with the Dark Slayer's personal history, it was always a wild move. Some didn't care, they hadn't been part of that vivid hell to begin with, and even if sometimes Faith's eyes darkened, especially during battles, like a lucid nightmare reaching through from the past, and it was clear to everybody that the girl hadn't always been a warrior of light, it always was too mellow and too contained within the moment for them to get concerned over it. Others did care. But honestly Faith thought it had little to do with her, and more to do with the feeling of betrayal and broken trust and the falling from grace of a personal hero. Because some of her girls were so easily enchanted into claiming that Faith was a hero, falling for your teacher was all old hat but hearts were delicate. Especially young hearts overflowing with adoration. And as much as it hurt to methodically break them with the truth and nothing but the truth, she knew it was the only way for the girls to never loose their heartbeat.

She never gave up on the temptation of justifying or explaining her actions, there could be no reason worth the deal, ever. They had to get that, even if she wasn't rooting in a cage, and even if it looked like she was enduring no consequences for what she did, and she knew it really looked like it, and sometimes it also felt like it. They had to know the truth, and they had to hear it from her, it was the safest deal, the most honest tale they would get. She wouldn't sugar coat anything, double-deal the facts, so that it wouldn't seem too bad, because she had been so young, so alone, already so damaged, and the damn world owed her so damn much.

It would be so easy, they would believe her word over anything.

Resisting the temptation of power felt as thrilling as yielding to it, keeping it noble and honourable turned out to be quite the ride, a safe ride, but still, acting out of virtue droned ecstasy . Much like blood and violence screamed it. It was different in the act, in the purpose sometime, and definitively in the speed.

But it wasn't consuming to act noble and feel good about it. Hypocrite maybe. If reaching the inner pleasure was the ultimate pattern of nobility. But she was way more interesting into discovering herself now that she was out in the open.

Now that she was part of something precious.

What was inside of her beside the guilt, the regret and the knowledge that she would always lay broken. And the need to unlash in violence and rage. Even now, even if she knew that she wouldn't. Because it was wrong and because it felt good to restrain. Virtuous even.

But she knew it was a lie.

This scrape of a girl running judgement on her, acting righteous and betrayed. And grapes. Claudia's eyes were the same colour of gooseberry. Never seen before. But that betrayed hurt look, a look Faith remembered all too well, was an insult and a mock, she didn't deserve to be mocked like that. This girl had no real right to smoulder her with that kind of look.. And she was loosing it, the understanding and the compassion. She was so tired to hurt for everyone but herself.

She was no used to that.

She stepped forward, smooth and liquid, uncoiled and loose, not caring if it was still about punishing herself, keeping it honest because the girl deserved nothing less, or because she was just trying to get the fear of god into her so she'll drop the upset and betrayed posture already and shift to cowering.

Faith's office, a small space confined by smoke abused walls, holding within its confine nothing more then a desk, ridden with various cigarette burns, a single scrawny chair, and a new shiny coffee machine, had always felt like the safest place in the world to Claudia.

Now it was delirious with uncertainty.

"_Why did you—"_ She struggled to form the words. She was faltering in her resolve already but Faith had lost any patience the moment the girl had dared to look at her in a way that made it hurt.

"_I owe you nothing. Nothing. You seem so eager to know, though. I'll give you the tale."_ But she wasn't going to explain the why. Not to her anyway. And it wasn't like she did know the why to begin with.

She never wasted too many words on telling what her relationship with the Mayor had been about, too complex, and they wouldn't understand and she wouldn't be able to explain it anyway.

And Buffy, what she did to her and why she did it, there was so much no one knew, so much she wouldn't tell, ever and to no one, because it really had been about the two of them, no matter how many people got involved or caught up into it, it had really always been about the two of them, and also that was to complicated to be put in words.

But she told everything about the simple stuff, the dirt she did for the Mayor, what she did to Buffy's friends, what she did to Buffy's mother and what she didn't get to do to her, because Buffy had stopped her. Just in time. And she had really stopped her because she was going to hurt Joyce. A lot.

And then she would tell them about Professor Worth and how she had walked into his house and stopped his life because — she didn't really know about this one. She never thought to ask.

She knew it looked like she was enjoying herself as she edged closer to the skinny teen and leaned in, so that she would see anything but her face and the hunting curl of her lips. The girl had the gut to stare back at her and even if she looked in fear and felt abused, her eyes never faltered away.

"_It's about choices, Claudia"_ she relieved the girl of feeling her so close and real and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest, lessening the pressure of a direct stare by tilting her head.

"_There's not such a thing as fate, don't screw your head into thinking otherwise, I choose. Now you choose." _Her voice dropped lower taking on that warm rough colour the younger Slayer was wellfamiliar with." You scared of me now? Fear I'll hurt you? You're disgusted by me?"

"_But you . . . "_

"_Lied? What the fuck Cloud? You expect me to wear twenty five years to life sentence on my shirt? _

Claudia let out a sound that suspiciously reminded Faith of a puppy whining. Tilting her head she frowned at the insanity of it all. And damn it . . .

"_Claudia" _The lack of nickname got the girl full attention._ "How the hell did you drop Jordan anyway?"_

"_I don't know."_ A shy grin and the beginning of a blush. _"Really. I don't know."_ The teen looked more pensive then scared now and because that was Faith. She knew her. She was familiar with the questioning gaze, the concerned frown and the restless yet soft posture of her body as the woman leant back against her desk.

That was Faith. All soft and all hard. Such a daring exciting blend.

"_I guess, I guess . . ."_ A dark eyebrow raising rushed her to form the words faster. "_I just let it go. I just let it go." _

A grunt of understanding followed her words. Faith was staring at her, the concerned intensity of her gaze playing agreeably on her skin.

"_Well then, you chase it back, kid. Spare it for something nasty. Cause damn it Cloud, you haul outta your ass a number like that again, I swear I'm holding you back form the fields." _

"_I'll try, Faith." _The teen rounded down her voice sheepishly._ "I always try."_

Faith had smiled then. Warmly. And for real.

It wasn't up to her. It was never up to her.

_**Los Angeles**_

Motherfucker. She couldn't see anything apart from the dippy nightmare of monsters charging toward her from every side. None of her sides were free at the moment. She could only swing her sword ,over and over, and damn was that blade getting slimier by the minute. Damn rain. Cold and sparkling on her skin. And the demons flying down on her like a single beasts, teeth snarling., claws swinging. Lucky girl. Hot chick with superpower. Plus she loved a good brawl. It was a pure celebration of chaos.

Damn Angel . What the hell did you piss off this time?

The Slayers were to go in that bright hell of growling beasts and flying myths alone. Faith hadn't minded and her girls were ready. They had never faced such a challenge before. It didn't matter though, that was the nature of the beast and they were in to slay it. Some weren't going to survive this. She hoped the ones to go to be nameless to her. It was a selfish thought, she knew. But she had to care for someone to survive this. Her hope of finding the vampire alive had faded to a bitter laugh a couple of hours ago This carnage has been going for a long time now.

Go for the hot spot! The hot spot. Damn Coven and their faulty locating spells. Sending them straight to the Californian desert. Gonna happen there. Darkness raising from golden dust drenched in sunlight. Must be the desert. Must be. And so it seemed until Willow lost her balance and collapsed on the ground holding head between hands, Giles quick to steady her trembling body as she gave the scoop to the waiting troops.

It's the Hyperion! It's the Hyperion. Relocate!

She had lost eye contact with the squadrons the minutes Giles had had given them the go. Gone. Charging forward the hotspot. Right into hell. Her wire was off and she couldn't hear Giles's voice anymore, which was a good thing because having someone talking your head off during a fight wasn't a safe deal. It was very dangerous. Especially for the like of her.

And damn this had been all so nicely planned and discussed, in front of a city plant. Not really.

They had to rush in.

While the operation took shape or at last advanced toward the battle the Coven of Devon was to dutifully perform a binding spell or something else, whatever it was, endless chanting, burning incense, and never-ending fuelling of mystic flames to contain or possibly stop anything which nature prevented any kind of traditional, old school, slashing through slaying.

Of course it was all kinda off and impromptu. They had to relocate as fast as they could. From the desert to the city.

Teams had been formed once again

Leaders were named. Faith stubbornly refused any team to fall under her leadership. She was going solo. It was a retrieve mission this one to her. And as good as she was at honing the girl's slaying skills to deadly perfection as far as bare training was concerned, she was honest enough to admit that leading teams through warlike run ups wasn't one of her mad skills.

After all she was on a retrieve mission. She had to find Angel. No way he was death. And the Slayers seemed more interested in the slaughtering of demons then anything else. She could understand. They wanted to prove themselves as fighters. All ready to jump into the action.

Fiercely.

Unnerving glares of braveness had been traded generously among the crew.

But Faith didn't miss it. Fear.

Fear boring eyes into dullness once the hugeness of the battle was revealed. The girls were all scared of death. Still.

The alley was a torment of warm brick and melting cement, a never ending line of demons flowing through and forward, their only mission destruction. They didn't mind ending their run into a blade, there was no treat or strategy they could hold over them but naked violence. And they didn't mind being fired up and through either, Giles's idea of loading into the battle flame-thrower units had been quickly discarded after a first fruitless try, the demons appeared to be impervious to fire . Which wasn't a huge surprise considering the glorious and magnificent sample of a dragon that was lapping about the starless night in lazy almost bored circles over their heads. As if the terrible struggle to victory performed by either sides were inconsequential to him

Willow had paled at the sight of it. The Dragon had seemed to change attitude after capturing the Witch's attention. Surging thought the sky violently , breaking through darkness, its translucent skin ripping through the night, an undisputed king. Last time the witch had seen something like that Buffy had jumped to her death.

Oh . . . an obscure thought formed in her mind.

The Dragon was here to claim the life of an hero.

During the trip toward the hotspot. The real one. Faith had patiently endured all of Kennedy's strong opinions abut proper military strategy. The young Slayer had verbally rocked into an overexcited exposition of the Art of War, spitting out names of battles and places, Faith was sure, only Giles knew. And not with such a passionate morbid intensity for sure. Unluckily to the strategist in Kennedy, breaking the army into three unit, left flank, right flank, and centre, launching assaults form different directions, opening holes into the enemy ranks, and all the other crap her Watcher had thrilled into her head wouldn't work there.

The desert would've been so much better.

There was no open space here. There was no direction. All they had was the alley. A tunnel. So their strategy had been reduced to advance at once, in tight closed formation of ten. Swept the front now and then and if someone got seriously injured create a fall back team and lead the hurt one to safety. Or relative safety at last. And clean the damn place demon free, in the while a Slayer out of each squad was to drop some shiny sparkling dust over the places they ran through. The dust was from the Coven. Important to the binding apparently. They had seemed obsessed about consecrating the ground, not like Faith would trust them that much, and especially after their locating act, but Red had agreed about the importance of performing some sort of blessing, or cleansing or strapping, or whatever ritual over the demon rid alley. Faith had no idea really. And mostly didn't care. All her concern was directed toward the battle. Some of the girls had refused to get on board for this peculiar mission after witnessing the situation with their eyes. They had opted to wait back at the Hyperion. The building was protected now. Willow was there, along with Giles and some of the Coven most powerful members.

Not even one of her trainee had picked the" waiting back" option once the rules had been settled.

Damn them.

She had lost them as she had immerged herself into the mist of scaled skins and thundering feet. But she could feel them. All of them. She could feel all but the one she wished to feel. That one was a continent apart.

Damn her.

But the girls were there, with their fear, with the courage. Some still untouched and so pure in their fighting purpose, shedding death upon demons with childlike abandon. They were awesome.

They were still just Slayers.

She had to fight off the urge to turn about and steal a glaze at them. She shouldn't. She should trust them with all she had. No checking. No making sure they were here and still cutting through the army from hell.

No smirking when Kennedy swore off language after severing the head of a demon with a single swing. Not looping away from her opponent and twirling around in blind fury after Claudia let out a terrible scream, her right shoulder closed into the hot sharpness of black claws. And really, no rolling of her eyes, when Jordan puffed her chest out, rested her blade on her shoulder and declared "— twenty notches on my stake "

Jordan, missed as a potential. Yet. Jordan. Tall and lean, her body a design of slender nervous muscles trimmed down by years of martial arts studying, she already had the right moves going on when they had recruited her for Slayer's duty, due to her father running a Dojo up in Chicago, training her had been like fuelling an already cracking fire instead then feeding and sheltering a new born flame until it could lick and kicks on it own. She was quite the ass kicker now.

Faith had lost count of how many demons she had run through. The blood wouldn't last on her skin, the rain saw to that, and for that she was glad.

But damn! A wrong turn and she'll loose a limb. A giant blade was falling down on her, the blade holder was a furious red skinned beast, it doubled her in height, his shoulders deformed by growing muscles and bulging veins, his body so huge it obscured her view of the skyline, all she could see a red mass falling forward, she bend down on one knee, raising her blade horizontally above her head in a desperate parry. Damn she felt it. Should've waited to coil down.

When he found the target she had lost the momentum and was a step away from cowering. The blade pressed cruelly on her own blade, the sharp edge parted the skin over her forehead, and her sight was run over by red. It was a disgusting feeling. The blood flowing from you. She could feel it, spreading dense, bridging to her brows, slithering along toward her temple and dipping.

Dipping.

It was nauseating. Behind the snarl, around the double row of sharp teeth. Faith knew this bastard was hiding a smile. Got her. Like hell. Some of the girls were calling out her name. Damn. They were worried. And the demon was fooling himself over her demise. And they shouldn't loose their focus.

"— don't fucking stop!" She screamed to the staring Slayers as surging upward, in a display of power so beautiful it was almost a sin to waste over a common find –but the demon didn't bulge. It was too strong. Motherfucker. He used the throwback of her useless struggle to press down on her with renewed purpose.

Damn.

The dragon wasn't floating anymore into the sky. Had stopped hovering apparently. Snapping his dark tail above their heads, nostril sniffing the air and ready to flare, staring down at them as if he owed L.A. and the world. All ready to fire it down. And what the fuck. God bless the fucking rain. It was a sign. Must be. Faith didn't believe in signs that much. But that wasn't the point.

_To be continued…_


	2. Last Days Of Rome

**Author's note:** First of all I want to thanks all the reviewers. Thanks a lot. It means so much to me. So very much. I hope you will enjoy this chapter and I apologies for any grammar mistake you will find, I'm really and seriously sorry about that.

**_Last Days of Rome _**

Dying on a battle field was the way she should go. No doubt over it. It was natural and it felt good to think about it. But there was no way in hell she was going to let a common demon take her life. Faith was damn serious about that. After coming so close at having Buffy Summer walk her down to her grave, or gutting her into it, she sincerely wouldn't be able to settle for anything less. But nowadays it would be difficult to even get Buffy into walking over the sparring mat let alone pushing her to catch such a ride. Not that Faith would ever want a repeat of that show down, she was way past that, and Buffy truly deserved the break. But the Dark Slayer was honest enough to acknowledge the irrational urges of her heart, and sometimes Buffy retirement from the fields took on the bitter taste of betrayal.

She knew the demon was stronger that her. Physically the demon was way stronger then she was, feeling powerless against his brute force was driving her insane and mad. So fucking mad. He was down on her and she could not move, had no room, his heavy foul breath winding down on her face was all she could smell. His eyes were red and still, pool of rotten blood, and she looked down on her as if she was nothing but a bug for him to squash.

She knew all too well how it felt to have no power. How it felt to be hurt ridden to unnatural stillness. She knew the useless struggle, fading motionless under a heavier body, a pair of skinny legs twitching slightly as the only move pain had left out of her. She knew how it felt to be too shocked to even whimper, and please let no one see that she was still alive. Let no one see that her body could still pretend a move. Let no one notice that her heart wouldn't stop beating. Not yet, it was still too loud. Never fucking mind, it was better left forgotten, her past. Her head could forget it. Her head was fucking obstinate into forgetting it. But her body remembered. Remembered everything, it would always feel betrayed, it would always get mad. And it would always demand for Faith to fight the hell back. During her early years that had been a suicidal attitude of hers. But not now.

And it wasn't like this son of a bitch knew who she was. Faith was sure there were no Slayers in that hell dimensions of his. A Slayer had no fucking limits, at last, she had learned that from Buffy. With a growl between her lips she shifted her weight into falling back wildly, her blade sliding up and away as the demon tried to power down his hold once more, she cracked a smile as the hissing clean sound of metal ran to her ears, her back arched, she the her sore muscles straining under the effort, but it was a welcomed pain, she freed her sword running it sidewise from her opponent blade and was about to fall on her butt when she tensed her abs, felt the pressure in her thighs and pushed forward.

She had little room and he was stronger but she was faster, she bend her legs and crunched her body down only to release all she had in back leap move, he snarled and threw his huge sword down once again, drawing a lethal hasty arc in the air but she was out of reach. Almost. The tip of his blade grazed her body from below her breast to her navel, it was sharp enough to part the thick Kevlar garment Giles had forced the girls to wear. Very the Matrix of him, Faith thought absently and only because this fight was over. She was going to win. The huge fiend found himself out of balance. let out a guttural growl of dismay. And surprise maybe, definitively surprise, Faith mused happily. His body contracted desperately as he fell forward, the violence of his own missed stroke bringing him down.

Faith smirked and gained her moment to straighten back, she relaxed the hold around the hilt, and let the sword rest peaceful along her leg, the cut on her forehead was still bleeding, she could smell blood tinting of metal the violent spray of rain as it washed over her face.

It felt good. She let out a scream, raised her sword high into the sky, the night was on her skin, it was a too familiar feeling to not be touched by it. She spun around winding her blade into a circle, a blur of metal cutting though the violent mist of rain, she was quick to fiend her target, not like she could miss it, the demon was huge.

When the fiend found the ground his head had been severed away by a powerful precise blow, the head was now marking its sloppy roll over the mucky soil with clammy fat noises. The headless body crashed down, she didn't get to see the fall but got to hear it, with a grin on her lips she stood still for a second, frozen on the last note of her critical blow, her body twisted, blade raised above her head, wishing nothing more then for Buffy to be there.

She wasn't. Didn't want to be. Didn't need to be. Fair enough. But over the wishing Faith had no damn control.

"_Great show, Captain" _Faith licked her lips, wiped her head around and smiled warmly at Kennedy. The short Slayer was sporting a mess of gore and demon bits from the top of her head to the tip of her feet, she was the sloppy vision of a lethal fighter, tediously swinging around the huge axe she had chosen as a weapon, just waiting for the next beast to attack her, looking vibrant with life and crazy with anticipation. The dark hair, rain plastered down her head, underlined the edges of her face, bringing out the lines of her strong features even more. Kennedy's smile had never been larger nor brighter and Faith achingly remembered the feeling behind it.

The rush of uncontaminated bliss and the pulsating contentment that drown everything else deaf and chased the rest of the world away, living off the untainted joy of the fight. She could only remember it, she was forever tainted in her joy now, it was one of the many prices she had to pay. That and the knowledge that it would never be safe for her to be on the outside. Never. And she had no Buffy watching her back this time. No one caring for her till the point of gutting her. It was perverse and twisted. But it made so much more sense for Faith to think at it that way. And it made her smile.

Her thoughts were blow out of her mind as demons charged again. A duo this time coming at her, still red and ferociously growling, but a lot smaller then the other one, way smaller. She irately sparred with them, parrying their strokes, diving forward in enraged assaults, skirting her body around their weapon in a feral game of sarcasm, elegantly handling her blade, and for the new and improved swordplay skill she really had Giles to thank for. The rest was all hers, the wild and unyielding temper, the rough elegance, and the reckless intuition, she had no one but herself to applaud for that.

Herself and her Watcher of old maybe. The first one, the only one. She had praised Faith potential and talent for natural violence as a really extraordinary and essential quality for a Slayer to have. A true life safer. She always wondered if her Watcher had been aware of the inconsolable ache at the base of her ferocity, if she had knew the true nature of her young Slayer's cruel fierceness. If she did, she had always refrained from saying a word about it, the topic had never been raised, and no question had ever been asked. That was something Faith would always be grateful for.

"_Being unpredictable and feral will save your life a thousand time during a battle. Fall down your opponent with the spontaneous rage of a storm. and draw all the pleasure you can draw from your fights. Saving the world is a tiresome and consuming activity, Faith. Relishing your spirit in the simple act of Slaying will keep you sane" _

Not like she ever managed to get more then half the things her Watcher used to say, she had been weird person, but the warm affectionate smile on her face had been enough to keep Faith from snorting annoyed at her words. Today she was ashamed to even remember her name. She had trusted Faith so much, had cared for her so much, treating her as if she was something precious, something like the second coming no less. And in a total no religious way she had been, kinda, the second to come. A true miracle out of the stern Slayer's line, but not really and only because her Watcher had never heard of Kendra. And Buffy had started the miracle in the first place anyway, Faith was just one of the results. One of the many results now. Sometimes she wondered if her calling had been nothing but a huge cosmological mistake. A mystical misdirection of some sort. Never the matter now. Her Watcher had treated her as her own child from the day she had found her dwelling about Boston's darker streets to they day Kakistos had caught them sharing hot chocolate in from of a silly TV show. She had been feeling so proud and so powerful, so sure of her own strength. Fuck the damn bastard.

Raising in a roundhouse kick the Slayer cracked the jaw of one of her new opponent and without breaking the aggressive motion, she turned farter on the side to bury her sword into the chest of her other adversary. Another bit of death demon garbage decorating L.A. During a worthless moment of stillness, she took a look at the demon she had decapitated a few minutes ago, and proudly realised that he had been one of the big one. It had called for two, even three Slayers at a time to bring his twins down. This would explain the girls screams of warning when she had first crossed sword with him. She should've know better.

The violent rainfall wouldn't show them any mercy, fiends keep falling at her feet, some were wild enough to drop their weapon and bodily aim for her, all sharp fangs and long claws and she was way too far gone to move out of the way, on a few occasion she welcomed the collision and the inevitable struggle on the ground that followed. Her body was being abused and wounded, her muscles were strained to the extreme and she felt like a animal. The gash on her forehead wouldn't scab over, and to many times she hastily had to wipe the blood away from her eyes. It was a riot of bodies, weapons, growls and screeches. She could hear the girls scream sometimes, she could hear their voices, and make out some of their words as they cursed heavily or warned each other, or yelped out of sheer joy and enjoyment. But of Team Angel there was no trace. They were gone. Fucking gone. It was too late.

She had just kicked another death body off her when Kennedy, standing unnaturally still beside her, held a hand out to her, Faith raised a brow, spat out a mouthful of blood, and accepted the offer. The young Slayer's attention was focused somewhere else though, her head was tipped upward, her face softened by lines of wonder as she absently pulled Faith's on her feet in a swift motion. And why the hell was Kennedy loosing time with her instead of fighting W&H's army back. Instead of leading her own troop. She was so going to kick her sorry ass later.

The lack of Kennedy's attention became no surprise once Faith noticed the show that was taking place just above her head. The once menacing looking Dragon was squirming like a needled worm in mid air, his body cursed by electric jolts, a thin dense violet net made of nothing but magic squishing the life out him, or her, or it. Faith was no sure about the Dragon's gender.

Kennedy was smiling appreciatively, her axe limp and forgotten by her side as she leaned her body back to rest against a slimy wall, a glint beaming her dark eyes into joy.

"_Willow's cracking her whip,"_ she informed Faith never taking her eyes off the glowing display, _"tipping the scale at last."_

Faith had glared at her then, in a way that never failed to make Kennedy's squirm

"_Not like we needed it,"_ the younger woman was quick to amend, _"but it looks pretty, you know."_

"_Looks wicked hot,"_ Faith nodded and relaxed. It did look pretty. In a total lethal way.

The magical net tightened the hold around the Dragon once more, the beast widened his jaws and let out a blood chilling shriek just before his body was twisted into a rocking series of broken convulsion and disintegrated into an explosion. The explosion had been so violent that not a piece was left of him, he left the sky in a water fall of light, loading the falling rain to feel hotter and denser on the skin for a few instants. A burning acid smell lingered on the air after his demise and its sharp quality really abused the nostrils and for some reason the demonic army grew nervous and lost some furiousness after the Dragon had been erased from existence.

"_Saint George got nothing on your girlfriend_," Faith's chest rose and fell in a sigh, her heartbeat was wild and she was short of breath.

"_Huh_?" Kennedy looked at her in genuine curiosity. Now at close range Faith's could see the beaten look of her face, the bruises, and the arm long slash that ran from her shoulder to her hand.

"_Slayer of the Dragon. Saint George, you know,"_ the young Slayer's puzzled look got a hint of a smirk out of Faith.

"_My mother was a Catholic,"_ the Dark Slayer explained, shrugging absentmindedly, leaving a surprised Kennedy to frown her brown at her.

It was a rare if not extraordinary occurrence to have Faith mention something in regard of her family. Well, it wasn't like Kennedy could further investigate the topic at the moment, being that Faith had chosen to gift her with this bit of information in the middle of a raging battle. Or in the middle of a once raging battle. The Slayers had obviously gained the upper hand. And Kennedy caught Faith openly smiling at the scene around her. The Dark Slayer looked rapt and proud. Smiling off like a maniac.

The girls were fucking good. Awesome even. She was ready to join the dance once again when Kennedy grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. Her right hand was cupped over her right ear. The earphone. Right. Faith had lost her own the second she had stepped into the battle field, the wire had been caught by a demon's claw and the thing had been hacked away from her body. She hadn't cared much really. She hadn't wished to bring it with her in the first place but Giles had insisted, and she had conceded.

"_They're beating a retreat,"_ Kennedy solemnly reported to her. "_We fall back and let them go back_ _to whenever the hell they had came from in the first place. Although I suppose hell to be a pretty good guess."_

Damn, It wasn't like Faith wasn't happy to hear the news because she was. She was more happy then she'll let anybody see. Ever. They had beat them back, and by taking a full look at the bloody playground she could see that Slayer team loss had been held down to a minimum. Nameless deaths. But that was war, Buffy had told her once. So it had to be okay.

From the little she knew this one Army from hell had been unlashed on Earth for a single purpose, destroying Angel and his team. And even if the Slayers had managed to hold them down and overpower them, Faith knew the only reason that could call this beasts back on their liar was the achievement of their purpose. Not like she had thought to find any member of Team Angel still standing about, after she had first caught sight of the army, but being faced with the reality of Angel's demise was a different matter all together. And it felt wrong to still be standing alive now. Wrong in ways she couldn't explain, wrong like the hurt that chocked her dry and made her eyes feel heavy at the thought of Angel not calling her for help. She would've ran to his side without a second guess but the vampire hadn't asked her to. Hadn't informed her. Not a word. And Faith knew the lack of calling hadn't been because of doubt or disrespect. Still what the fuck? Being alive had never felt like the easy way out but not now, now she had much to live for, so much more then cheap pleasure and raw power, some much more then chasing destiny and B.

Standing under the rain, caught between the narrow walks of the alley, the ground soiled with death, the walls painted in devastation, and blood. There was always going to be blood. No holy lamb would ever wash it away from her hands and the religious reference were starting to scare her, what the hell was going on into her head? But fucking blood so familiar and sick. And so fucking precious. She shouldn't touch anything with her hands. She really should not. She shouldn't be part of a dream. Wasn't her place. Couldn't be.

They were going to clear out the area soon. Soon no trace of Slayers would be left in the alley, the sunrise will lead the police, the road sweepers, the firemen, or whoever used to take care of the gauge and the blood, pretending it was nothing but usual filth, to clean out the mess. Maybe the Government would take over now. Faith had heard word of Giles's coming out, working agreements with the various official forces after linking back the Council old contacts, but she had never been interested enough to investigating the topic further. Hadn't cared really.

For the world this was just another day to be forgotten and kept quiet and history, the official kind of history, the one she never got to learn at school would never knew about tonight. But this night would fill a special place in the new Slayer Chronicles, Faith knew Willow had been writing down. She would love to read the bits under the entry "Faith". Some fucking ride.

She knew she had to move her ass. She knew she had to give hand into demobilizing the troops, they had never held such a gathering before and getting all the girls back to their respecting quarters, or Slayer's Dens as Xander referred to the various Councils scattered around the world could take days. And then she would go back to England, she would fall back into the training routine she had grew to love so much; she would go back to Dana, because Faith was the only one strong enough to never look away from her. And the girl needed her.

But Faith didn't really felt like moving at the moment.

If she closed her eyes and forgot the dreadful scents of death and let the past years run away from her, she could pretend nothing had happened.

She could pretend herself back in Boston where it all had started. And she could think it all back from the beginning and play it our differently.

Like stopping just in time to catch herself from killing Finch. Like knowing it before it happened, knowing he had a beating heart, knowing like a Slayer should always know, and be ready to soothe Buffy's shocked eyes with a look of warm reassurance and confidence, because she had almost killed a man. But hadn't. And because Faith was so fucking good and could make no mistakes.

But the rain was still falling heavy on her and the make up fantasy wasn't loud enough to turn her deaf to the present.

And if she could go back from the start, she could stop Angel from diving into death. Like a fucking idiot.

She had been called in a alley. It was always alleys. She was screwing silly some fuckhead when her body had reached a new level of consciousness. Like awakening at once. Like coming hard and then harder and never really stopping. Not like Faith could describe how it had felt to be called. Not like she could remember anything but the feeling of bones crushing under the pressure of her hold and the cruel childish wonder of hearing him scream.

The explosion in her body when she had punched the young man into the face hard enough to smash his nose. And she hadn't even been trying to hurt him. Not really. Not like she knew what was going on for real. Her Watcher had found her like that and maybe just in time because Faith hadn't believed her words as much as she had believed her own hands.

"_Centuries of greatness flowing through your veins. Centuries of blood. You've been Chosen."_

Chosen. She couldn't take it. Never could.

When Kennedy turned around Faith was gone.

_To Be Continued_


	3. Milk And Its Derivates

_**Milk and its derivates**_

_Boston_

_Once you're sober you're alone. No one would hear you . You won't even listen to your own thoughts_

The amber liquid was familiar like a cheap lover, so was the rough feeling of wood under her elbows.

Faith was the only costumer sitting at the counter, the place was pretty death, a pair of scruffy college students stood, gangly, by the pool pretending to play as gulping down a pint after another while exchanging remark in regard of her breast.

She could hear them whispering, hinting and laughing, hoping to get her attention but too young to do anything serious about it.

A drunk woman, her soft full body gracelessly draped over a chair, was sitting in the darker corner of the pub.

She was smoking a cigarette, a deep killing drag after a another, she could feel her heavy gaze on her back, but she was too tired to acknowledge it with a tease. Faith had the nature of a shooting star. A blur. Always forgotten. And the holder of unfulfilled wishes.

And Boston was still . . . Boston. Cold, harsh and grey but fake enough to welcome her. And surprisingly kind enough to not remind her of her past.

Her pre-calling days, left to die in the back of her mind as faded, black and white pictures, devoid of any feeling. Stripped of the hurt . . . she was strong now.

She loved her city, a shocking information to acknowledge, but it was true. She loved the dark frosty nights, the hysterical impressiveness of the buildings, and the smoky alleys. Faith loved alleys. Always did. Contrary to every logic and any good sense, but some of the best things had happened to her in alleys . . . and some of the worst.

Both, in the worst and in the best memory of her history with alleys, B was featured as the star. What a freaking honour.

Faith had a weird vision of belonging. Many lines she should've crossed but never did. Many things she couldn't touch but died to grab.

And it was freaking wrong to think of her now, she was on a mission, she had a kitten on the prowl to catch. And to stop.

Hopefully and if it wasn't too late…damn Giles for trusting her that much.

Tonight was lost on thoughts, though…fruitless hours. She was trying, she really was. But Boston and gathering information was proving to be quite the task.

She stood, smoothly, in spite of the booze working her blood warmly, and retrieved her jacket from the back of the chair, winking at the barman she left a couple of bills over the counter and finally walked out of the pub leaving two horny boys and a hungry woman behind.

Sometimes Faith felt like a lie. A paper thin slippery lie. Her strong body carried the charade out nicely and many unfriendly eyes were deceived into believing her.

But it still was a lie.

It was going to take time. The kid was good, Faith had to give her that . . . falling from the sky, sweeping scums up and disappearing as if she was the caped crusader, or something. And with just a name and a picture there wasn't much Faith could do.

Kid was a orphan, no family to track, she had been dreading her life in a orphanage until one fine day she had received her birth right.

Gone boom.

Called.

Mika Len, missed as a potential and missed by the locating spells of Red and the Coven . . . but her exploits hadn't been missed by the New Council's watchful eye. Violent rampages that unmistakably were painted by the hand of a Slayer.

And now Faith was on a retrieve mission . . . or more like a damage control mission. And because no one of those stuffy Watchers wished to deal with a rogue Slayer, anyway. But mostly the mission was delicate . . . and she could say with a hint of pride that Giles trusted no one but her to handle this particular case.

And so there she was, back in Boston, alone and with no real clue but a faded picture and a name.

But Faith had to admit that playing hound for Giles wasn't so bad . . . the rushing distraction was very welcomed at the moment. After running away from L.A. in a desperate call to leave behind the fateful night of Angel's demise, she had been living off roads like a houseless migrant through the States, raged like a mad dog and with so much ache in her body that it was a miracle for the world to still be spinning in its wake.

She knew that she had scared them all shitless, disappearing like that, not a word, not a call and no one was aware of the fact that Giles had always knew how to get in contact with her. That was the deal.

And the man had the good sense to let her steam out for a couple of weeks before making his call. Faith was glad no one had been following or watching her during her wanderings, it was a tremendous demonstration of trust form Giles. A call she didn't think she deserved but her possible reaction to a follow up operation wouldn't have been pretty to watch. Or maybe it would have . . . but not in good way.

She mentally smirked, the familiar hint of pleasure stirring in her chest. . . she was honest enough to declare the feeling.

When the man had called her, he had asked no explanation, had marked no question. He had delivered her some basic information about the current situation of her girls.

Information she had died to know but would've never dared to ask, and because, after all she had walked away from them. Kinda.

Luckily the puppies were all safe back in England, safe and high about the big glorious battle, and worried silly about her disappearance. And then, just as discretely, Giles had recruited her for the new job in Boston and pleading her to hurry and resolve the possible deadly situation and to make it fast because in England there were people needing her, that missed her terribly.

He'd asked her to please call Willow, or Kennedy and ease their concern. But he hadn't intimated her to do so, which had felt good.

Calling home had felt good too . . . talking with her girls had felt good. So good. Grunting out answers while they talked her ear off, while secretly smiling behind the receiver like a maniac, had almost caused her heart to burst out of happiness.

And then talking to Willow, and listening, desperate and powerless, as she whispered in a sorrow filled voice how Dana wouldn't be able to sleep, talk or just be there since Faith had left. It tore her apart, and gutted her deep. And deeper.

She needed to speed up matters and go back in England and be there with Dana, if only to stare at the girl right in the eyes and make it true and real for her.

When Faith was around Dana wouldn't let no one else drive her mind , when Faith was around it hurt too much to not be there for Dana. It was too hard and cruel to slip away.

But as far as things looked now, Faith wasn't going to walk back to England anytime soon. Damn. She mused drowsily while making her way back to the cheap motel room that she had rented out for her stay in Boston.

The room was stuffed bright of discounted furniture pieces, scraped here and there, and so inconsistently mixed together to fit the space that it hurt to stare at the feel of it. Not like Faith was going to keep her eyes open. The damn space reminded her of her motel room of old too much, so she sure as hell wasn't going to turn off the freaking powerless bed lamp, when the light went off Faith was a white scar, she'd sat still, and wouldn't dare a move as darkness put her under siege.

She closed the door and walked to sit on the bed. The bed was a mess, even if she had used it only for the odd naps, files and folder were scattered over the merciless surface and the stuff was all matted in with the covers.

Lots of work.

She heaved a sigh and slapped her hands down on her thighs, enjoying the sound the contact made, and loving the feel of tight leather under her palms.

She dared h her eyes around and the sight of the useless TV caught her attention. The crappy device was placed royally over a colorful counter in a corner of the room and Faith snorted at it, for TVs never worked in place like that. It was all old, really.

Christmas lights . . . 'tis the season. Whatever that means. The big party that really never was. Joyce caring. And the crappy gifts.

Damn . . . why hadn't she used the nice cash, Giles had so nicely loaded her with, to sign her ass in a fancy Hotel room?

_New leather._

Right, that was why. New leather pants, new leather jacket and here she was stuck in a cage of bitter sweet memories. Because without her heavy natural second skin she just couldn't do. Closing her eyes, she let her body fall back on the thin mattress, a whooshing noise was her reward and then . . .

_Purrrrrrrr . . . _

She smiled at the sound and without opening her eyes, she reached out with her right hand to meet soft short fur and a humid nose.

Her hand rubbed the feline's head some more enlightening more deep and long purring sounds.

"_Hello Fuffy."_ She grinned, opening her eyes, and was greeted by the sight of a skinny, old stray cat rubbing its sinuous body against her stretched hand, her downy fur tickling her skin.

Faith had found Fuffy some nights ago, the cat was slouching about the entrance of her motel room at dawn and after one ineffective night of Slayer hunting the girl had made the terrible mistake of offering to the stray half of her burger.

Since then, Fuffy had been a constant presence into Faith temporary household, always finding creative ways of sneaking in, and after a couple of nights of simply finding the feline sleeping under her bed the woman had resolved to keep the cat.

After all the greasy landlord really didn't care about who . . . or what spend the night in his rooms.

Faith's fingers dropped motionless stopping their gentle ministration. The hand, unexpectedly, stilled in mid motion, and extraordinarily so, as if the blood had been frozen into the Slayer's veins making it impossible for her to move.

A protesting mewing mourn rose to lament through the abruptly unnatural calm.

Oh fuck, was that the beginning of some twisted Slayer's dream?

Faith's mind played the thought bitterly. It really was the only possible explanation . . . or maybe not. Maybe Faith had gone mad, or at last why madder then before.

The woman exchanged a quick worried glace with the now annoyed cat as the door's handle cracked and shifted.

Somebody was overpowering the weak lock. Far away thoughts of reaction creped into her mind but she couldn't dare a move, beside she knew who it was. This presence couldn't be deceiving.

Faith's eyes were trained on the entrance, she stared almost transfixed as the door parted with a delicate crack and let a stream of night in, a familiar figure appeared, filling the dark spot with colours, and ran through the empty space.

Buffy Summer stepped into the room like a whisper. Flowing golden hair bouncing on her shoulder; a long creamy coat, that probably was more expensive then Faith's whole wardrobe outlining her slender small form; her high heel teasing the floor with their bit as she walked further into the room. The door, elegantly, closing behind her back.

Her elegant manicured fingers curled around a cup of steaming coffee and what looked life a suitcase was gripped firmly in her right hand.

Damn . . . Faith was robbed of her thoughts.

"_This cappuccino really sucks."_ Buffy started, her voice too sunny and too cheerful

"_But then again Italy spoiled me_ _like that."_ She swiftly put the hot cup down on the TV's counter and dropped her suitcase on the floor stopping in mid motion to steal a look at Faith. She was still curled up on the bed, her hand still motionless extended toward the skinny cat.

Buffy rose a teasing eyebrow at the sight. _"Your sexual habits are getting weird and weirder"_ She grinned. _"Color me_ _puzzled and perplexed."_ And quipped easily enjoying the younger woman's hazed stare and confused frown.

The feline, obviously bored by the new play, was stretching her nervous body under the Slayer's palm hoping to score a caress. Her ribcage painfully showing under the motion.

"_You feeding him good aren't you?"_

Faith recoiled, finally. She retrieved her mind, her thoughts, and shook her body awake. In a fluid motion she stood, thrilling Buffy's eyes with her solid presence. She crossed her arms over her generous chest and tilted her head to impose a somewhat deep and thoughtful frown on her features.

"_It's a she_." Faith said.

Bitter sweet recognition shadowed the older woman's eyes as the unexpected reference to their oneiric journey molded pictures and emotions in her psyche leaving Buffy dry and out of responses.

The sudden memory was too powerful to allow a reaction.

Faith waited knowing that she had scored. Buffy heaved a sigh and lowered her gaze fairly conceding the point. _"And aren't these things supposed to take care of themselves" _She mumbled to herself holding tightly onto the overpowering link that was stalling her out of the present.

"_Buffy?"_ Faith played her name in concern shocking her into collecting herself. Buffys smiled briefly but for real this time, and went to sit over the messy bed slowly reaching out to scratch the cat's head. The feline purred gratefully and arranged her body over the sheet still managing to look royal and pleased in spite of her scruffy appearance.

"_I know."_ Buffy whispered avoiding the younger woman powerful gaze. _"And I am sorry_"

"_Sorry about what?" _Faith voiced her doubts. She still had to gain back her balance. But then around Buffy she had always felt as if her feet weren't firmly planted on the ground.

"_Adriano." _The Immortal. Faith's memory filled the blank for her._ "Heard word of a rogue Slayer being loose in Boston"_

"_Huh huh."_

"_And I got word of you being in Boston" _Buffy's curt voice irritated her. The older woman grimaced and lowered her head on the now sleeping cat staring at Faith from under long lashes.

"_Jesus, B!" _Realization hit the younger woman like a punch in the gut. _"You thought it was me." _Her body tensed for a brief instant. Buffy saw the shift and braced herself for the following explosion but surprisingly to her eyes Faith deflated and stood gangly looking and defeated with her arms limb along her sides.

"_Yes, I did." _Buffy countered softly. She wasn't going to apologies.

"_Fuck it, B." _Faith went to sit beside her. Her body apparently dried of strength._ "Why didn't you call Giles, or Red?" _She leaned forward resting her elbows on her knee, a self contemplative frown on her face. It was unsettling to Buffy._ "Why is that you don't call them anymore"_

"_I did talk to Giles." _Buffy pleadedscooting back and further into the bed to rest her back against the bedboard. _"After landing in Boston" _She grimaced again. And this whole grimacing attitude was getting old and out of place._ "That's how I knew where to find you"_

"_After landing in Boston?" _Faith snorted twisting around to fix the retracting woman with a mocking glare._ "Jeez. Rushed much?"_

"_As if." Buffy grunted. "If it was you, I had no time to waste really."_

"_I'm flattered." _The woman hushed out. Yet . . . this whole deal was taking on vivid pleasant colors as the discussion progressed. Faith was still too edgy and disconnected to deal with the implication held within the words but she could feel tenderness daring to poke up through the layers of her complex relationship with the woman.

"_Don't be" _Buffy shook her head, her voice sliding up to wear an accusing glint over her tone._ "What was I suppose to think, really? You just disappeared after . . . "_

"_Why?" _Faith demanded as Buffy's voice died to a fading whisper. She knew what Faith was asking her. She feared that question for a lot of reason.

The young woman was staring at her appearing like a soft desperate plead. Her eyes soft and liquid, so vulnerably raged. But she looked so dispirited in her fury. And young, too young.

"_You were doing so good." _A soft hopeful shrug and a slow nod from Buffy caused Faith's eyes to twinkle in surprised._" So good with the girls." _Buffy's lips played out a shy melancholy smile. _"So good with the job." _And her voice low like velvet. But . . .

"_You protecting me now?" _Faith boomed, shocked. She so wished to scream at the insanity of it all. Buffy would've jumped out of her skin if the woman in front of her hadn't been Faith. And s he wasn't going to give Faith the satisfaction. So she just ignored those dark blazing eyes as best as she could and kept talking.

"_You have no idea what Angel had gotten himself into." _The far away look in her eyes betrayed a deeper sadnessthen the one Buffy was allowing her body to show._ "Rushing to his side would've meant certain death _

"_But It was Angel!" _Faith pressed on. Her nervous body shivered to break off the tension in her muscles._ "It was Angel, B" _She pleaded searching Buffy's eyes and hoping to find understanding there. But the woman wouldn't meet her gaze. She was still lost on her own words.

"_And beside he didn't want you there." _She said. Her voice firm but devoid of any cruelty_. "All we could do was rein up what he left behind. . ."_

"_Oh yeah?" _Faith's derisive voice hissed through the air like a whip_. "Funny I don't remember seeing you out there"_

"_Faith. Don't." _Faith could do nothing but submit to the tender ache weaved into the woman's voice. She couldn't fight the urge to cradle Buffy's soft appearance with a restful comforting gaze.

Buffy's sniffed involuntary, a self mocking laugh parted her lips as they locked eyes. And it hurt. It hurt so much.

The endless moment dissipated as Faith embarrassed stood and paced away from the bed. Buffy followed her with her eyes, somehow amused by witnessing the powerful confident attitude back and ruling the moves of Faith's body once again. And so fast.

What was she thinking about now? Looking all scowls and dark glares.

"_That's her." _Abruptly stopping her pacing Faith jerked her head toward a faded picture resting beside Buffy's leg.

"_The rogue?" _

"_Her name is Mika." _Faith corrected her sharply.

"_So do you have a lead?" _Reaching out Buffy examined the picture suspiciously. The girl was young. Very young. Slender and stridently shaped. Her features were delicate yet sharp, her hair was fair almost white and her eyes were of the same color of the sky as seen through smoked window glasses.

"_Not really. But Giles contacts are working and I'm on their phone book. No sweating, B, " _Faith said fearlessly but after a look from Buffy her voice dropped low and concerned, the shift in the color of her tone was so sudden and marked that to hear it was startling.

"_She's been prowling around South Boston, that's good cause I know the area, but that is." _She kicked the floor with the tip of her boot scruffily stuffing her hands in her back pocket looking juvenile for a_ second. "She runs riots but never sticks around to enjoy her pieces. Smart kid."_

"_How bad is it?" Buffy asked, leaving the bed to stand up and cross her arms over her chest, conveying confidence with the mere posture of her body. _

"_She did a world of damage. But nothing . . . deadly. Yet." _The woman explained trying to remain calm but rapt by Buffy's determinate gaze._ "And I can handle it, B" _Damn no . . . Faith had no intention to leave the ball in the younger Slayer's court.

"_Giles thinks so." _Buffy nodded._ "But I'm staying" _Her tone broke no objection. And Faith had to fight off a grin in spite of everything. But damn that was her playground. And she shouldn't allow Buffy's presence to make her . . . excited.

"_Whatever B!" _She drawled dismissively, violently collecting herself to forcefully step in front of the older woman . . . f_uck it, Buffy didn't even flinch . . . _ pinning her with a dark glare Faith started to count off her fingers._ "No vans. No chains. No sleeping guns. If she gets frisky I sedate her with my fists" _Buffy's eyes darkened at the veiled accusation but she was too tired to protest and so she welcomed the rant as crazy comedy_. "And no going after her looking like a cop, B."_

"_What?" _Buffy blurted out sounding half amused and half insulted._ "Am I your sidekick now?"_

"_Well, you are blonde, B." _Faith smirked that irritating, all knowing, smirk of hers._ "Or at least you pretend so." _She frowned not quite sure about the younger woman words but choosing to dismiss them with a shrug.

"_How much do you think she knows?" _She questioned Faith seriously.

"_About the Slayer's deal?"_

"_Yep."_

"_Nothing, I think." _A doubtful grimace._ "She is acting out as if she was on a personal crusade apparently, stopping muggers, bar brawls and the likes of that." _Her eyes scanned the scattered files remembering the words_. "She probably think she is a super hero or something and is looking out to swept the city garbage clean."_

"_We better find her before she crosses path with a vampire then." _Buffy pondered seriously and the implication held in her thought forced a disdainful laughing snort out of Faith.

"_No sweat on that, B. A Slayer always know what to do with a vampire. It's in the blood." _Faith hadn't need her Watcher to trust a stake in her hand. She had knew right away. Slayer. Vampire. Wood. Death vampire!

"_Well, I didn't!" _Buffy countered irritably

"_But . . ." _Faith's voice slowed dangerously to draw out the words._ "You always had the whole Slayer/Vampire gig messed up." _

Her eyes betrayed uncertainty in spite of the bold posture as she waited for Buffy's reaction. Maybe she had pushed her too far.

The older woman, head tilted and face scrunched up in a frown, was studying her carefully as if she was contemplating her image. And for a second Faith felt naked and vulnerable to the green eyes.

"Really can't deny that statement" Buffy chipped in shattering the smothering stress and gracing Faith with a knowing smirk.

She could be a friend now. All harmless smiles and needed words. She could be that.

_**To Be Continued**_


	4. That Certain Female

**Author's note:** I'm sorry for the delay in updating, I wrote out this chapter ages ago, but refrained from posting since I was searching for a beta, I have found none, so I apologizes for the grammar mistakes you may find in the piece.

This chapter may be really confusing and it will probably broke the flow of the current storyline, since is kinda like a flashback, but I was never one to follow a straight patterns and especially when writing and this is the first part of chapter four, I'm working on writing the other half at the moment, hopefully it will be up soon.

Hope you enjoy. And please take your time to review. Reviews makes me happy and writey.

_**That Certain Female**_

_Boston-Years Ago._

"**_The Sun made flesh. That's the Slayer, Faith. The Sun made flesh." _**

The melodious voice declared, the tone was laced with such a gentle sincerity that for a second the edgy teen was forced to doubt her own personal belief over the matter. The older woman enjoyed the silence as hesitation appeared to trouble her young's charge frown with the soft uncertainty of doubt. Her graceful hand rose to push a lock of tick dark hair behind the young woman's ear, she knew those gesture were hard for her charge to accept and trust but she never spared Faith the chance to witness her sincere affection.

That was an usual night of patrol. Nothing big, nothing fancy. It was just another smoky street, like all the streets meant for the two of them also this one appeared deserted and unnaturally silent, so deadly quiet.

Almost dark, only barely illuminated by a pair of half broken streetlamps, their buzzing orange like glow adding a certain urban character to the perfectly desolated scenario.

The older woman would' ve preferred to patrol through a cemetery, it was more of a classic Slayer's training set-up, but apparently in Boston it was easier to find vampires hiding in the darker corner of the city, that was according to Faith at least.

The Watcher knew that behind her charge reason, really laid Faith's passion for catching the vampires in the middle of their hunting habits, the teen didn't like to stake a vampire out of a fresh grave or to chase it through mausoleums and crypts. No, she loved to get them as blood was still dripping from their teeth. She loved to tear them away from their prey and she loved to relish herself in their raged frustration and pain as their role changed from hunter to prey.

And even better if the victim stayed around to witness the violent show, Faith never hung around enough for them to thank her after the dust exploded around the stake, but she wanted, or maybe needed, the woman wasn't sure about that, for the victims to see her saving them.

And the Watcher was sure that a lot of the reasons behind this need were buried into the girl's past, maybe she had been a victim once and had needed for nothing more then to see someone saving her, but the English woman would never satisfy her guess by questioning the girl, it would kill Faith, she knew, to put in words whatever it was that allowed her to unleash her strength with such a terrible beauty that was too overwhelming to witness and to be contained within words or sentence explaining of the Slayer's nature.

"_Sun made flesh?" _The girl turned around to face the woman thrilling her with a cocky smirk while walking backward and smoothly avoiding a streetlamp with a sidewise leapt_. "Hell, they sure as hell taught you good how to fuck up the sense in that Audience training of yours."_

"_Watcher, Faith. No audience. Watcher training." _The woman chided amused with a smile on her lips.

"_No way, lady." _Faith shook her head and kept talking, a bold note was colouring her low voice now._ "I always put up a great show. And so," _she flashed a smirk at the woman._ " You're the audience."_

"_The sun made flesh…" _The woman thought and shivered against the cold as walking closer to her charge, the girl was always warm. Never cold, not even when snowflakes swallowed the city whole.

Faith released warmth like . . . the Sun. The woman smiled inwardly. "_That sentence was the very first thing I read about the Slayer, Faith."_

"_Huh huh. Really?" _

"_Yes. It was the opening line of the first Watcher's diary I've ever read."_

"_What's that?" _Faith screwed up her eyebrow and made a face at the woman.

"_Watchers are supposed to chronicle out the life of their Slayer. So that she would be never forgotten, so that new Watchers would be blessed with the knowledge."_

"_You writing stuff about me_?" The girl questioned half amused, half disgusted and totally frightened.

"_No," _the woman grimaced._ "No yet"_

"_Why?" _There was a note of dismissive resignation in her voice now and it made the older woman's gut twist in knots. She had to explain . . . the girl had got it all wrong and it was dangerous for Faith to misunderstood matters. Dangerous for a lot of reasons.

"_A Watcher Diary is supposed to be objective and true to the fact, the Watchers' personal feelings have to stay out of it but---," _the woman paused as choosing her next words carefully, for a dark shadow had dropped over the girl vibrant dark eyes, _" - - - you're very intense Faith. It's not possible to be unaffected by you. I found myself not able to write out what I saw in a lot of occasion."_

Faith didn't acknowledge the woman words and kept walking in silence, the angry set of her shoulders and her long strides betraying her nervousness.

The older woman resolved to reach out for the girl but when her delicate hand was just a few inches away from the Slayer's body, Faith froze and twisted around in a single motion, and stared at her mentor without moving a muscle.

The woman felt smouldered by the deepness of those dark eyes but luckily her racing heart soon slowed down as Faith went back to her age and cracked a big smile with dimples and all, and finally smirked that half evil and half ridiculous grin of hers while stretching her body out, arms and all as if she was a cat in act of displaying its graces.

"_Just grab a camera and tape me then." _She declared feeling all the tension melting away from her muscles.

The Watcher reached out again and Faith allowed the woman to caress her check with the back of her fingers.

"_Taping is against the protocol , Faith." _She said with a motherly smile on her face.

"_Screw . . . " _Faith growled and stepped out of the touch_. "…the protocol, lady."_

"_I . . . " _She declared while pointing her stake at her own heart._" . . . am the Slayer" _a whisper of wind played up a look of her dark tresses and twirled it wildly to cover half her face, the vision blending with the feeling of the girl felt surreal to the woman and for a second she felt terrified.

But then . . . those dimples were showing again and the stake didn't felt so menacing now that girl was twirling it between her fingers as if it was a drumstick.

It made the woman smile back just because and soon she fell back comfortably into her talking routing . . . crafting out tales of the Slayers of the past with her elegant voice, tales that she knew Faith loved to hear but would never admit so.

But honestly, the girl wasn't paying too much attention to the woman's words at the moment, she was on the hunt, but her Watcher's voice was always latched with kindness and she could always remember what she said. The words at last, she could never forget her words. Her Watcher's words played the weirdest tricks on her mind, they would stay with her, and she would be able to recall them later, if only to mock the older woman. But still she could never forget her words. And maybe that really had been the woman purpose from the start.

That didn't mean that she agreed or understood what the woman said half of the times. It didn't matter, though, Faith wished for nothing more then to find a damn vampire and especially tonight. All she needed was to hear a growl rolling off those smoky dark corner and she would leap toward it.

The sun? Right. She had never felt real sunny but she never engaged with the woman verbally, there was no point in arguing with her, her Watcher had a weird way with words, dark scowls and raging sulks worked better on her then smart ass remark did. And she had a tender heart, she could never stand the sight of Faith off and brooding in a corner. Youth, potential and so much beauty wasted like that

"_Your eyes are too old Faith_." She used to say as thinking about a way to ease her off one of her dark moods, Faith just knew. She had to forge a smirk on her girl's face and leave it there and luckily for the older woman, it never took much to get a smile out of Faith, most of the times offering her some unhealthy greasy food was all it took, she was easy to please.

But tonight Faith was the Slayer. She dove into dark alleys like a predator dropping from the sky at sickening speed, her fists raised and her heart excited by hope, her Watcher's concerned warnings soon lost on the back of her neck.

If she could just get her hands on a damn fucker! Yellow eyes! That's all she needed to spot! Damn yellow eyes!

_Faith had no doubt about what the Slayer was. The Sun? . . . fuck no!_

She was the Slayer.

The Slayer was her body

And the way it was speed bond to motion. Actions blasting into other actions.

The Slayer was the arousal of the world relentlessly assaulting her perception. And her new way of sensing it, taking it in all at once, each one of her sense latched onto the other, their overlapping feedbacks driving her crazy with the very notion of stirring.

Stirring.

Stirring and stretching her body after a good fight. The feel of her shoulders shifting and tensing as she brought up her fists.

Her legs, the speed, the kicks, and the jumps packed there.

Her heartbeat increasing in a chase of death with her thoughts of victory, drumming off the beat of a war like chant.

Her chest, raising and falling as she devoured mouthful of hot air that left her throat bare and scorching.

Her lips, curling up in wishful anticipation and breaking up in a full smile as certainty hit her ,winding in that familiar feral pleasure, swooping her up, taking her over the edge.

Again and again.

The was no pain or hurt her body could not enjoy, there was no pain or hurt her body couldn't double deliver back!

And the ecstasy between her legs increasing, the pulsating heat thrilling her whole body! Shivering jolts of pleasure lapping through her in growing circles, growing wider with each kick, wider with each punch!

She was going to win. They were going to loose.

That was the Slayer.

She had to catch a vampire in the next alley. She just had to. And she would damn show to her Watcher! Cause the woman had no freaking clue.

"_**The sun made flesh. That's the Slayer, Faith." **_

No.

Bullshit!

Her body . . . that was the Slayer.

Boston- Present Day


End file.
